On the Menu

A recent comment by Laura Eno reminded me of this one. I’ve told this story before as part of a longer post, but it’s one of my favorites.

My first trip outside the U.S. was to Costa Rica [a beautiful and friendly country and I highly recommend you go there]. I know only a little Spanish. [The basics, you know: Cerveza, Baño, ¿Tiene una hermana?] We relied on a phrase book and the English skills and good graces of our hosts to muddle our way through. One day we were sitting in a small restaurant and I was reading the menu posted on the wall. I saw the word “Perro” and thought, “I know that word! ‘Perro’ is ‘dog’. I have dos perro at home. Holy crap, do they really serve dog here?” Then I noticed that it was followed by another word that I recognized, “Caliente” — hot. Whew! Hot dogs on the menu I can handle….

Spice of Life

Madeline shivered in the booth of the little diner. “Maybe eating somewhere new will break me out of this rut,” she mused to herself. “And this place looks so warm and cozy.” Besides, it was close to her office and had not been open long. It’s always good to support a local establishment.

The proprietor, Alphonse, a slight middle-aged man with a beatific smile, greeted her warmly. “How about some nice, hot soup to warm you up?”

“That sounds great,” Madeline smiled back.

“I’ll bring you something special,” Alphonse gave a little bow. “This is the only place in the world you can get it. My own creation.” He returned to the kitchen.

Madeline closed her eyes and massaged her temples. This case. This case had her mind in turmoil. No one she had talked to in any law enforcement agency anywhere had heard anything like it. And now it had happened for the third time. Three times in as many months.

Three times make it a serial, but serial what? Some madman is abducting young mothers with their infant children. He tortures the women — there’s no other word for it — by making them watch their child being murdered. He makes them watch. The bastard. But then, moments later returns the child unharmed.

No one knows how he’s making such a convincing display of the horror. Drugs? Hypnosis? CGI? The women all swear they saw their child die. It seems completely real. And then, perhaps most inexplicable of all, when the children are returned he collects the mother’s tears. And then he lets them go.

“Here’s your soup, ma’am,” Alphonse placed the steaming bowl on the table. “Careful, it’s piping hot.”

“Thank you,” Madeline stirred the hot liquid. “This is your own creation you said?”

“Oh yes. And very special. One of the ingredients is very hard to come by. This is only the third time I’ve been able to make it.”

Third time. She turned her gaze from Alphonse’s inscrutable smile to the wall behind him where the diner specials were neatly printed in colored chalk. In cheery, yellow script she read:

Soup du jour: larmes de joie

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Note: Long-time readers may recognize this as a piece I published before I joined the Friday Flash Fiction group. I have made some changes improvements to the previous version.

RRR: Tapestry

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This was originally posted on 25 August 2005

Colors bright and beautiful
Add interest to the day
So vivid and so brilliant
Life’s visions on display

Snags and snarls and tiny rips
The edges all are frayed
The fabric of my life unravels
And I am hanging by a thread

RRR: My Extremely Brief, Unintentional, and Unprofitable Ownership of a Pornographic Website

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This is an update of a post originally published on 21 November 2006.

I garnered three new followers on Twitter this weekend. I have blocked two of them because they link directly to porn sites. [I am not philosophically opposed to porn. It's just not what I publish in this space nor will I promote it here.] I’m guessing I picked them up because I had the word “erotica” in my Friday Flash title and the tweets promoting it. And I’m guessing I’ll have to block a couple more when I publish this post. ~Tim 14 December 2009

Here’s the old post with updates:

Let me tell you about the time my website was labeled “pornography”. [And it was not last month when I got all crude and rude on a couple posts. In fact, it predates my blog by a few years.]

The school district where I work has only been hosting websites for teachers for about a year or two. Those of us that were ahead of that curve were on our own. So for a while I used some of the space provided for personal pages by my ISP to post information for my classes. I registered a domain name and had the URL forward to my pages.

That worked well… until one day the filtering software the district used blocked access to my site. It was classified as pornography. Hmm. Well, I was angered a little and amused a lot. But URL forwarding was a trick often used by pornographic sites so you could have a link for PureAsTheDrivenSnow.com that actually links to RaunchyDebauchery.com. And since it wasn’t really practical for them to, you know, actually have a person look at every website that passes through our servers, the filtering software just blocked every site that was forwarded. And labeled it pornography.

[I just made up those domain names and figured I better check whether there are websites attached to them. As of this writing PureAsTheDrivenSnow.com is registered but does not have a site up and RaunchyDebauchery.com is not yet registered. Wow! Same as three years ago! ~TVS So if you're looking for the Christmas gift for the person that seems to have everything....]

I copied the section of the agreement with my ISP that expressly prohibits posting obscene material and emailed our district network administrator. The reply shocked me more than having my students see the big stop sign when they tried to get to my site. It was district policy not to unblock sites owned by teachers. I think they adopted the policy because a lot of people were using services like Geocities [remember Geocities?] that were full of banner ads over which you had very little control. But I wasn’t using Geocities for my class pages and I had no ads (or pornography) anywhere on my site. And shouldn’t we expect a site owned by a teacher to be among the most relevant of the sites we want our students to access?

Fortuitously, I also emailed the publisher of the software the district was using and they unblocked my site. The argument with district policy was moot for me then and it was a battle I was not inclined to fight just on principle. Eventually web hosting prices dropped low enough that I was willing to have a site devoted just to my classes so I don’t have to forward the URL any more. And thus ended My Extremely Brief, Unintentional, and Unprofitable [dammit] Ownership of a Pornographic Website.

RRR: The Lights are On

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This is an update of a post from 16 July 2005

I’ve always loved light bulb jokes. You know, “How many _____ does it take to change a light bulb?” [I've always loved elephant jokes too, but that will have to be another post.]

How many psychologists does it take to change a light bulb?
How many teenagers does it take to change a light bulb?
How many teamsters does it take to change a light bulb?
How many country singers does it take to change a light bulb?
How many philosophers does it take to change a light bulb?
How many computer programmers does it take to change a light bulb?

Some years back [hah!] I went to a chiropractor for a while. He had a pretty good sense of humor so one time I told him this one:

Q: How many chiropractors does it take to change a light bulb?

A: Only one, but it will take him ten visits to do it.

He got a good laugh out of that. The next week he told me that he had told that joke to another chiropractor friend of his and they decided on a better answer:

Q: How many chiropractors does it take to change a light bulb?

A: Only one, but it will take him ten visits to do it — twenty if you have insurance.

And I got a good laugh out of that!

Answers:
psychologists = only one, but the light bulb has to want to change
teenagers = only one, they hold the bulb and the universe revolves around them
teamsters = TEN, YOU GOT A PROBLEM WITH THAT?
country singers = two, one to change the bulb and one to sing about all the good times we had with the old bulb
philosophers = three, one to curse the darkness, one to light a candle, and one to change the bulb
computer programmers = can’t be done, that’s a hardware problem

And one more that I like a lot:

Q: How many kids with ADHD does it take to — hey, wanna go ride bikes?!?

RRR: Do You Haiku?

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This is an update of a post from 25 April 2006

I like shorter forms of poetry and I like that haiku traditionally has themes related to nature. A really good poem, in my opinion, distills a moment or an idea into a small crystal. It is clear and compact. At a glance you might exclaim, “Yes! Oh my god, that’s it exactly!” And then you spend an eternity examining the facets and the infinite truth reflected there.

Poetry, and Asian poetry in particular, suffers in translation into another language. Still, there are gems to be found here. My favorite haiku in my recent reading is from Haiku: Seasons of Japanese Poetry edited by Johanna Brownell:

These butterflies of ours –
If they could speak, what pretty dreams
We’d hear about the flowers.

Call me a simpleton, but I get lost inside those words. How different would the world appear if we could see it through the eyes of a butterfly? This poem also reminds me of a well-known parable attributed to the Chinese philosopher Zhuangzi. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to to Taoism has this translation:

Once Zhuangzi dreamt he was a butterfly, fluttering buoyantly; a butterfly fully content being himself. He knew of no Zhuangzi! Suddenly, he awakened. And plain-old Zhuangzi doesn’t know if he’s Zhuangzi who just dreamt a butterfly or the butterfly dreaming he was Zhuangzi.

Taoist parables are full of paradoxes. How do we decide what is reality? And, for whatever reason, this reminds me of Edgar Allen Poe, the favorite of my maudlin teen years.

A Dream Within A Dream

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
This much let me avow
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep – while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

Is it important that he makes a statement at the end of the first section that is a question at the end of the second? [Bonus: What horror movie used those last two lines in the opening credits?] Hmmm, some days I think too much. And I seem to have wandered far from where I started. But that is the way with poetry and me — I wander.

Once I had a lover who would put her head on my shoulder while I read poetry to her. [Actually, twice, but that sentence didn't sound quite right when I wrote it that way....] Poetry, I’ve heard it said, should be read out loud. And reading it out loud, but softly, to an ear that was right there, caressed by the words, was a lovely place to wander. And a heavenly place to be lost.

RRR: Herman’s Head

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This is an update of a post from 9 February 2005

Herman’s Head was a sitcom that ran for three seasons (‘91-’94) on the FOX TV network. Four actors played parts of Herman’s psyche (sensitivity, lust, anxiety, intellect) that observed, commented on, and argued about how he should respond to the events in his life. The voices in his head were much more clearly defined, and funnier, than mine are. [If I had them, which I said yesterday I don't, so anyway....] But I remembered this show when I began working on something I expect to post soon. [And what I posted yesterday.] I was surprised to find there are several websites with info and I’ll post a few links below. Many people found it as innovative and funny as I did but, apparently, not enough of us for FOX to continue production. They sited poor ratings as the reason for cancellation.

Featured on the show were:

William Ragsdale as Herman, several other TV series and TV movies on his bio.

Hank Azaria as Herman’s best friend Jay, does several voices for The Simpsons and, in my opinion, one of the best comic voice and character actors ever.

Jane Sibbett as the gorgeous (knows it and uses it) coworker Heddy, tons of acting, producing, and TV guest appearance credits including as one of the actresses to play Ross’ ex-wife on Friends.

Yeardley Smith as the sweet and innocent coworker Louise, probably best known now as the voice of Lisa Simpson.

Jason Bernard as the know-it-all boss, Mr. Bracken, passed away in 1996 so anything you might have seen him in was probably before this show.

Molly Hagan as Angel (sensitivity), lots of movie rolls and TV guest appearances.

Ken Hudson Campbell as Animal (lust), lots of acting and voice credits.

Rick Lawless as Wimp (anxiety), only a couple other credits listed.

Peter Mackenzie as Genius (intellect), lots of movie and TV credits.

Fan Page
IMDB
FAQs
Title and Air Date Guide
YouTube

3SP: Veterans Day

This is an update of a post from two years ago.

Eleven November is Veterans Day in the U.S. — a day to thank and honor all the people who have served honorably in the military in wartime or peacetime. One of my cousins was injured in Viet Nam. My father enlisted in the army right after he graduated high school to fight in World War II. I know families that have much stronger and longer traditions of military service.

Regardless of how you feel about our current military involvement, I think we owe a great debt to the men and women who volunteer [and they are all volunteers] to maintain the safety and security of our country. To all those brave people I say THANK YOU!

Here’s a 3-Song Playlist for the veterans. The Ballad of the Green Berets along with The Green Berets movie a couple years later were hugely popular in the sixties. Brothers in Arms was, I think, hugely under-appreciated in the eighties. And Life During Wartime from the seventies is just for fun. Because we all need a little fun….

RRR: Joke-O-Meter

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This was originally posted on 12 March 2005.

I think you can tell a lot about a person by their sense of humor. Like a lot of shy, geeky, introverts, I use humor — especially self-deprecating humor — as a defense. But I also use it as a gage to measure other people. They don’t have to be able to tell a joke well, but I like them better if they GET the joke.

Rene’ Descartes walks into a bar. The bartender asks him if he wants a beer. “I think not,” he replies. And then he disappears.

Now, I’m not a humor snob, but I do appreciate an intelligent comic and humor that rises above elementary potty jokes. For a long time though, my favorite three jokes all had one word in common in the punchline.

A buddy of mine went up to Harvard. (Remember, I grew up in Kentucky. This did not happen often.) While walking around campus, he stopped and asked one of the students, “Can y’all tell where the library’s at?” The student looked down his nose and sneered, “At Harvard, we don’t end a sentence with a preposotion.” “Okay,” says my buddy, “can y’all tell me where the library’s at, asshole?”

Nurse: “Doctor, why do you have a thermometer behind your ear?”
Doctor: “Dammit, some asshole has my pen again.”

Q: What’s the last thing to go through a bug’s mind when he hits your windshield?
A: His asshole.

I tend to prefer short jokes and one-liners. But a good story has it’s merits.

A couple driving to Disney World saw signs for the nearby town of Kissimmee. Being unfamiliar with the area, they debated whether it is pronounced KISSimmee or kissIMMee or kissimmEE. The debate turned into an arguement and they decided that when they got to the town they would ask one of the locals. So they pulled into a fast food place on the main drag and went inside. Stepping up to the counter, the guy says, “I know this may sound like an unusual request, but could you please very slowly and distinctly tell us where we are?” The clerk looks at him and says, “Burger King.”

I told that to a girl I dated and she said, “Oh, so they never found out how to pronounce it.” In that instant, I knew our relationship was going nowhere. Maybe I am a humor snob. Somedays you’re the windshield. Somedays you’re the bug.

What makes you laugh?

RRR: My Other Brothers

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This was originally published on 6 February 2007.

I went to a Halloween party this weekend at the house of some old friends. I don’t see them very often these days, but there is something very comforting in having people that we have known for a long time, who share our stories. This is one of the stories we share. And I’m quite sure that R___ was with us again this weekend. Imagine a ghost being the life of the party. Okay, that may be a bit of a stretch but he did bring us a ton of laughter. Again.

I am not what one would call a family man. But I am a member of the family of man — or the human family if the generic form of “man” offends you. I am a son and a brother and an uncle. We have the families we are born into. And we have families that we draw around us — not of blood but of choice, kindred spirits becoming kin of sorts.

Not long after I moved to Central Florida I met M___ and H___ and R___. I’m a tall, white guy of mostly Dutch and German descent. M___ is shorter and rounder and mostly Scottish. H___ is small-framed and swarthy; both his parents are from Bangladesh. R___ had red hair and beard and was built like the rugby player he was. The four of us could not look less alike if we had planned it. For a couple years we hung out together a lot.

Here’s a quick story about R___. Where he worked, when you logged in to the computer network messages from coworkers would automatically be sent to your screen. So he wrote a message that looked just like the screen you got when the network was down….

When R___ was diagnosed with brain tumors, M___, H___, and I went to see him in the hospital. At the nurse’s station we were told that only family was allowed to see him. [Is it just me, or does it not make sense to call an area of the hospital ICU when, in fact, I'm not allowed to see you there?] “We’re his brothers,” we said. By coincidence, his mother was there at the time and after a little conferring behind the desk, we were welcomed by “Mom” and we got to see our brother. He was in pretty good spirits considering they had shaved the side of his head, drilled holes into it, and cut out part of his brain.

R___ was a member of Mensa. We thought it would be really funny to send him a letter on Mensa letterhead informing him that he would need to retest since he no longer had the brain he had originally qualified with. I don’t think we ever actually sent the letter, but we did tell R___ about it and he thought it was a hilarious idea.

R___ passed away several months later. And over the years M___ and H___ and I have drifted in and out of contact with each other. But we always laugh when we are together. And at odd moments I hear R___’s laughter too. My kindred spirit. My other brother.